


I Second That Emotion

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:30:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny is sick. Mindy is trying to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Second That Emotion

Mindy’s brow furrowed in bemused intrigue as she opted to lean against the doorframe to Danny’s bedroom, hot cup of tea steaming safely on a plate in her hand as she watched the scene before her.

 

Danny sniffled and grunted as he moved around his bedroom with the agility of arthritic 90 year old man. He’d gathered clean clothes from drawers and his closet—it took him around ten minutes in between shuddering fever chills—and now he simply let them fall out of his arms onto the bed. He stared at the pile for a minute, closed his eyes in what Mindy guessed was a dizzy spell, and then released a heavy breath upon reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, which he then slowly—very slowly—began to pull and only got half way up his torso before exhaustion won and his arms fell miserably at his sides.

 

“God dab it!” He cursed. At least Mindy guessed he meant to say ‘damn it’.

 

“Danny? Please get back to bed and let me nurse you back to health. You’re ruining my Nicholas Sparks novel fantasy right now. It’s so annoying.”

 

His head turned slowly in her direction and her heart clenched a little. He was pale, sweaty, and he seemed so small that the glare he attempted was pathetic at best.

 

Frowning, she held the cup in her hand a little higher and said, “Baby, I made you a tea. Please get back to bed. You’re in no shape to work today. Besides, I already called Jeremy and told him you’re contagious. He’s banned us from the office for the next two days, so—good luck getting in there.”

 

“I have patients!”

 

“You’re sick!”

 

“I ab dot sick! I have the ibune systeb of an ox!”

 

“Really? You’re _ibune_ system? What’s an _ibune_ system? Get back to bed, NOW.”

 

“But.”

 

“Now, Danny, I’m not kidding.” Mindy sternly retorted, impressed with the way she didn’t even crack a smile.

 

She watched him miserably, and slowly, climb under the covers as he muttered something under his breath?

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

 

“Nothing.” He grumbled, sinking heavily into the pillows, doing his best to glare at her through heavy lidded, watering eyes.

 

Shaking her head, she made her way towards the bed, spilling only a little bit of tea before reaching Danny to gingerly hand over the cup and sit beside him. “I made you some tea.”

 

He stared blankly.

 

“I did.”

 

He stared longer.

 

“Danny, I swear, I made this tea!”

 

The stare was getting annoying.

 

“The fact that you don’t believe I would take the time to make my boyfriend, Daniel Castellano, love of my life, some tea when he’s sick—okay, fine, I bought it at the coffee shop across the street. But I specifically said ‘make sure it’s something that will cure anything’. And I think that makes me thoughtful.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” She said, and then reached out to brush his hair back. “The good thing is, you seem to be sweating the fever off quite nicely, so your _ibune_ system has nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“Ha-ha.”

 

He made no attempt at lifting the cup off his stomach where he’d been balancing it, and she frowned deeper, affectionately combing her fingers through his hair. “You don’t feel like drinking it right now, huh?”

 

He shook his head as best he could, which wasn’t very well, before she took the cup from him. “I’m sorry. I’ll drink it later, I promise.”

 

“You don’t have to do anything today.” She assured him, turning away only long enough to place the tea on the nightstand, facing him with a smile a moment later. “You just have to get better. That’s all you should worry about.”

 

He offered her a painful smile and then groaned in displeasure. “A cold has never knocked me on my ass in my life.”

 

“You—have a ridiculous fever, you shivered through the night and you didn’t even budge when I changed your shirt at two in the morning after you sweat right through it. I think it’s okay that you’re on your ass. I want your ass to live at least until _I_ die. It’s a cute ass. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now, I did make you some chicken soup that I expect you to eat after you take a wee bit nap, okay? No arguments.”

 

“Did you really make it, or did you buy it at Nicola’s up the street?”

 

“Are you going to doubt me throughout this entire illness, Danny?”

 

“Did you?”

 

“Yeah, I did, I did buy it. But I’m going to heat it up for you, after your nap, and you will eat it. No arguments _then_.”

 

“Okay.” He chuckled weakly, but leaned in to kiss her arm anyway. “You’re the best nurse a man could ask for.”

 

“It’s funny that you say that because I actually got myself a Candy Striper uniform I’m going to, uh, show you later, when you’re feeling a little better.” She dotted her statement with a playful flick of his nose.

 

He pulled back a little, just enough to get a good look at her, and smiled. “Really?”

 

“Yep! But that will have to wait. You still look really hot, even though you should be gross and undesirable, but I really don’t want to kiss you until you can pronounce your M’s correctly.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because my name is Mindy and I really don’t want to hear you say ‘ _Bindy’_ while we’re doing it.”

 

He chuckled heartily then before reaching for her hand. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” She leaned over, kissed his cheek, then his forehead before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “This is totally playing out like I thought it would.”

 

“What? Your Nicholas Sparks fantasy?”

 

“Mhmm. I’m the devastatingly beautiful, tragic bombshell, nursing her ailing boyfriend back to health, pulling him out of the cruel jaws of death.”

 

“I’m hardly in the jaws of death.”

 

“Shh,” She placed a hand over his mouth, muffling his bemused chuckles. “You’re sick. You don’t know what you’re saying, baby.”

 

He bit her palm and she pulled it back, gasping dramatically as she cradled her hand to her chest, the flicker of mirth in her eyes betraying her reaction.

 

“You’re infected,” He said. “Now, we can both die. Together.”

 

“That’s so morbid.”

 

“It’s romantic.”

 

She winced. “You’re delirious. I think you should go to sleep now.”

 

“Okay.” He nodded, no longer fighting the exhaustion and letting his eyes drift shut.

 

Mindy watched him for a few moments, until his breathing was easy enough, before kissing his cheek one more time. Above the thick layer of worry, she felt an odd sense of pride and happiness. This was what committed couples did. They stuck around and didn’t think it was disgusting when their partner made the bed wet with fever sweat. She was definitely—not healthy—but in a relationship that worked. Somehow.


End file.
